


Seize the Day, Suffer the Night

by Sailorhathor



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Girls with Guns, Multi, Winsister
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2007-04-15
Updated: 2007-07-15
Packaged: 2017-10-22 22:42:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/243387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailorhathor/pseuds/Sailorhathor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today is the longest day in Dean Winchester's life.</p><p>(24-style fic that covers 24 hours in the lives of the Winchesters. AU in that the boys have a sister, simply because I like writing what the dynamic would be like had there been a daughter in the family.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Hour 1: 12:00AM-1:00AM

**Chapters:** 1 of 24  
 **Rating:** Overall, rated Adult for horror, sexual content, and bad language. Some chapters could get by with a warning for kids under 13.  
 **Dates:** This chapter was written April 2007  
 **Word Count:** 2,816  
 **Summary:** Today is the longest day in Dean Winchester's life. This hour, Dean and Brook grift some poker players out of their money, while Sam encounters a phantom child who mentions a deadly agreement they made many years ago.  
 **Timeline:** Alternate Universe after the _Supernatural_ episode "Crossroad Blues."  
 **Warning:** Winsister AU! Contains spoilers for several episodes of _Supernatural_ , especially the second season. Even though Dean _would_ make good on his threat to go into Sam's pants, this is not a Wincest story. I want to present a more realistic brother/brother/sister relationship this time. One chapter will have Wincest (Sam/Winsister) overtones, though, due to a succubus, but there will be no actual sex. The actual sexual content happens between Winsister/OFC, Sam/OFC, Dean/OFC, and Dean/OMC in future chapters.  
 **Author's Notes:** "Ashes of Dreams and Bloodstained Streets" is a Winsister universe in the "Supernatural" fandom. There were so many good choices for a live action model for the sister of Sam and Dean that I decided to use them all, just in different stories. In this multi-chaptered tale, Brook Winchester resembles actress Danielle Fishel. (Her name won't always be Brook, either; that way, I can use all the names I liked too, hee.) The phrase "Ashes of dreams and bloodstained streets" comes from the Motley Crue song "In the Beginning."  
I've always been really into the idea of the boys having a sister. It's a psychological thing with me. Dean's such a great big brother that I'd love for him to be that protective of a sister too. Wish I had a brother like him.  
Megumi is very loosely based on a character from an episode of _Kadokawa Mystery and Horror Tales_ , "Last Day as a Teenager."

  
 _12:01:57... 12:01:58... 12:01:59... 12:02:00AM..._

        "Dean, are two ladies better than two A's?"

        Dean leaned over to look at his sister's cards. "No. Two Aces beat two Queens."

        "Oh, darn."

        The other two players at the poker table, Ross and Mark, glanced at each other and grinned. The look they exchanged said, _"What a ditz."_

        Dean leaned over again. "Brook?"

        She carefully examined her cards with an almost pained expression, nibbling on a fingertip. "Uh huh?"

        "You're not supposed to let the other players know what cards you have."

        Looking at her older brother, she seemed surprised. "Oh, you're _not?_ " Brook turned back to the other players. "How embarrassing. Forget what I just said, okay?" Then she added a little giggle. "Teehee."

        The two men Dean had suckered into playing high-stakes poker tried not to show too much satisfaction in reaction to Brook's apparent inexperience. Ross and Mark both thought they were about to take all the money the Winchesters had.

        "I call," Dean said.

        Brook only had a pair of Queens. "Do I lose?"

        "Sorry, little lady, but you do," Ross replied with a smirky little grin.

        "Shit." She pouted, running her hands through her dishwater blond hair and making sure to toss it around playfully for the wandering eyes of the two men. "I'm sorry, Dean, I keep losing all our money."

        "Just keep your poker face on this time," Dean angrily scolded. He gathered the cards to shuffle them.

        "You mean like this?" Brook did her best to make her face look as blank as possible.

        Ross and Mark held back derisive laughter.

        Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like that."

        "Why do you play with this ditz, Winchester?" Mark asked.

        Brook glared at him with her mouth open, offended.

        Dean shrugged. "What can I do? She's my kid sister."

        "Yeah! He's stuck with me," Brook amended, as if this was truly the best comeback she could come up with.

        They played several more hands, with Dean and Brook losing at least seventy-five more dollars. Dean appeared to grow more and more frustrated. The other two men plainly became overly confident that they would take all of Dean and Brook's money before the night was through. They started to drink, thinking their victory was assured.

        The more questions Brook asked, the more Ross and Mark snickered and shook their heads.

        "Dean, how do you make a Full Flush?"

        "Dean, if you have two Kings and a Jack, does that make Three-of-a-Kind? But they're all men..."

        "Dean, why do they call this thing that looks like a doggie paw a Club?"

        They were down almost $150. Dean practically had his head on the table in shame. Ross and Mark couldn't stop laughing between gulps of beer. "Can we switch partners? Please?" Dean begged.

        Brook smacked his arm as hard as she could. "Shut up and peel the cards!"

        "That's DEAL!"

        The bets were big on the latest hand. At least $80 on the table. Dean was whispering to his sister, "Fold, Brook. Come on. Just fold."

        "No! I've got a good hand this time." She seemed to notice that Ross and Mark were listening. "I mean..." Brook put on the blankest expression she could manage.

        Ross chuckled so hard he dribbled beer out of his mouth, which he wiped off his chin with his hand. "I call."

        Brook had a Straight Flush. Dumbfounded, the two men stared at her hand and didn't speak. A cigarette hung on Mark's lip, stuck to it with his own saliva, before finally falling out of his mouth. He suddenly and frantically began slapping at his smoking pants.

        "I think I win. How about some Five Card Stud?" she said, and smirked, gathering up the money. Then she added, "Teehee."

        They started to catch on when Brook curiously began to win, whipping out Full Houses and Three-of-a-Kinds left and right. Dean's luck also improved, although not as much, because his hadn't been as bad as hers to begin with. Because of their pride, Mark and Ross kept trying to win their money back, convinced that this airheaded twenty-something and her pretty boy brother couldn't possibly be beating them after losing almost all of their money. They didn't realize who they were dealing with until they were both down to less than ten dollars.

        "How could this happen?" Ross asked the nearly empty bar room. "We were winning..."

        "Tell you what..." Dean began, smiling in a charming way, "I'll lend you ten dollars. Double or nothing, winner take all."

        It was strange how Dean always had that Royal Flush just when he needed it most.

        Ross and Mark were licking their wounds when Brook excused herself from the table, counting the money in her hands. The Winchesters had netted more than $300 for their trouble. Not bad for a little over an hour of "work." A minute later, Dean said he was getting them another round of beers and would be back in a moment. "I'm going to give you the chance to win back your money only because I like you," were his parting words, which he gave them with a wink.

        Shortly thereafter, he stepped into the women's restroom. A lady gasped and rushed out the door. "I really gotta go," he said to her, holding his crotch. When she was past, he looked over his shoulder to check out her ass (not bad...), and then knocked on the door of the only locked stall. "Brook, we better get outta here before they sober up."

        She flushed and came out, resuming her counting of their money. "So what is it tonight? Out the window, or do we sneak past them?"

        "Out the window. They're angry, so they're going to be looking for us. By the way..." Dean tried to take the money from her, but she casually passed it from one hand to the other and kept counting. "...you were laying it on a little thick out there. Next time, not so much ditz, okay? I mean, did you have to do that 'teehee' thing?"

        Brook shrugged. "Guys like that think women can't even play poker. If I went a little overboard, it was only because I was so disgusted with their attitude." Grinning, she ran a few bills between her fingers. "We taught them a lesson, huh?"

        "Well, we learned from the best." Dean caught hold of the wad of cash, but Brook wouldn't let it go. They stared at each other. "Lemme hold onto it, okay?"

        Brook snatched the money out of his fingers. "That's alright, I got it." She stuffed the bills down her shirt, into her bra.

        Raising an eyebrow, Dean remarked, "Do you think I won't go in there?"

        She just smiled back, tight-lipped. "You do and you'll draw back a bloody stump."

        "Oooooh, I'm scared."

        Someone knocked loudly and furiously at the door. "Winchester, are you in there? We need to talk to you," Mark's voice said.

        "I think they figured it out. I'll soft-soap them; you get to the car and I'll meet you and Sammy there," instructed Dean.

        With a nod, Brook headed for the window.

 _12:45:57... 12:45:58... 12:45:59... 12:46:00AM..._

        Sam rarely wanted any part of the poker games. It wasn't that John hadn't taught him the art of grifting people out of their gambling money too, it was just that it made Sam feel bad, even if some people desperately deserved the Winchester treatment. He knew it wouldn't take long, so Sam waited in the Impala, ready to slide over and get the car started if they needed to make a quick getaway.

        He was currently watching the front door of the bar. Sam's attention was occasionally stolen by the mountainous terrain nearby in the California hills. Earlier, he thought he'd spotted a coyote roaming around. He knew they weren't as much of a danger to him and his family as they were to rabbits and housecats, but still, he wanted to watch an animal like that this close to populated areas. Sometimes, they attacked children.

        Like the little girl currently standing on the side of the rocky hill. A young Asian girl in a dark dress with a little white collar. Why was a child out here all alone, at this time of - Sam gasped in shock when he realized he recognized her, and where he recognized her from. It had been eleven years. He was the only Winchester left alive who knew what had happened all those years ago, when Sam was 12, Brook was 14, and Dean was 16.

         _"We'll take care of it,"_ John had said at the time, when Sam couldn't hold it in anymore and confessed everything that had happened, everything that had been wiped from the memories of the rest of his family. _"We've got eleven years to figure it out."_

        But like so many other things, this deal young Sam had made at the foot of the Nakamura's stairs had been forgotten with the passage of time. Perhaps Sam didn't want to remember it, had deliberately stopped thinking about it, because he hoped it would just go away.

        Apparently, the creature harbored by the Nakamuras hadn't forgotten. She stood almost still, just staring at him through the Impala's window with a serious expression. Megumi. Isn't that what they called her? _It means 'blessing.'_

        Sam shouldn't have been able to hear her from that distance. Despite that, he could make out her words clearly. "The day we agreed upon has come," Megumi said in a deep, inhuman voice.

        Sam screamed and nearly jumped through the roof of the car when the back door opened and quickly closed. Brook had slipped in unnoticed, except for the sound of the door. She watched him nervously run a hand through his mop of hair, listened to him take a ragged breath. "Did I scare you?" she asked jokingly.

        "No, I was trying to learn to highjump right here in the car," Sam replied with irritation. He looked carefully out the window, not seeing the little girl anymore. Had she really been there at all, or had he been dreaming? Sam _had_ been napping shortly before... maybe he hadn't awakened at all until Brook got in the car, slamming the door and waking him up. "Did you see a girl out there? A little Asian girl in a dark dress?"

        Brook shook her head. "No. There was nobody out there but some drunk guy leaning on his truck." She looked out the window too. "Did you see a kid out there?"

        Sam settled back. "I think I was dreaming."

        Brook leaned up on the front seat, next to his head. "Did you see something weird?"

        He didn't want to tell her about it. It had been a secret between him and his dad for eleven years. Sam hoped he could keep it that way. "Just your face."

        She stuck out her tongue at him, then reached over and stuffed the wad of cash into the front of his pants. Sam tried to recoil in surprise, but there was nowhere to go. "What are you doing?"

        "Hide that. Don't tell Dean you have it. He's playing Brook's Just a Girl again." She sat back and tried to look innocent.

        They both saw Dean coming across the parking lot. He got into the driver's seat and closed the door. "Those two guys are waiting for us. I told them we were having a powwow because you wanted to keep the money and I wanted to give them another chance to win it back. We should leave before they get impatient." Dean glanced over at Sam, then watched Brook's eyes in the rearview mirror. "Sam, gimme the money."

        Jerking in his seat like he'd been shocked, Sam barked, "What?"

        "You think I don't know my own brother and sister? You two look about as guilty as a succubus in church." Watching Sam's nervous eyes and where they led, Dean paused for a moment before his eyes went down, passing over the same area. "You think I won't go in there?" he asked, gesturing at Sam's pants.

        Brook sighed in exasperation. "Just give the baby his bottle, Sammy."

        "That's right, you can't hide anything from me," Dean laughed as Sam dug the money out of his pants. He handed it over with a sigh as deep as Brook's to show he, too, was not amused. After he'd pocketed the money, Dean started the Impala.

        "You're a jerk, you know that?" Brook told him as he pulled out of the parking lot. "I can hold onto the money just as well as you can."

        "Yeah, you'd just make us stop at a mall and spend it on shoes."

        "Screw you."

        Dean chuckled again. "You wish."

        "Oh, ew."

        As they pulled away from the bar, Sam watched the hills to their left with fear in his eyes. Like he expected to see something he hoped would never surface again.

        Dean looked at him out of the corner of his eye. "Something wrong, Sammy?"

        Sam took his eyes off the mountainside. "Nothing."

        Brook leaned on the seat between her brothers. "Where are we going again?"

        Dean, grinning, said, "I got us two gigs in one of the most exciting places in the world: Hollywood."

        Brook rolled her eyes. "I should have known. You want to pretend you're a director so you can bed some starlets on the casting couch."

        "I was thinking more the casting waterbed," corrected Dean.

        "Or the casting hot tub?"

        "Which case are we working first?" asked Sam.

        "Actually... we're working them both tonight," Dean replied sheepishly. "But I don't think the first one will take long. The other needs to be investigated way after hours anyway, because, you know, some things come out more in the middle of the night."

        Giving the back of Dean's head a shove, Brook questioned, "And exactly when did you expect us to get any _sleep?_ "

        "Aw, come on, Sixxer," protested Dean, using an old nickname for her. "You gettin' too old to stay up all night?"

        "Whatever." She laid down in the backseat. "We must be crazy, taking you to Hollywood. You'll wind up in a porn movie." Then, wanting to get even with him for his comment about the shoes, added, "And you'll spend all our money on cheapass movie souvenirs."

        "Quit your bitchin' and take a Midol."

        Her hand came up over the edge of the seat with only her middle finger extended.

        Dean put on some Judas Priest, and they stopped talking for a little while.

        As they drove out of town, Sam watched the hills go by Dean's side of the car and slowly began to relax. Maybe it _was_ all a bad dream.

 _12:59:57... 12:59:58... 12:59:59... 1:00:00AM..._


	2. Hour 2: 1:00AM-2:00AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam remembers what happened eleven years and one day ago to cause him to make the deal that's come back to haunt him today. He and Dean discuss what Dean remembers, which is limited, and then Dean sets off another prank war. The hour ends with the Winchesters finally, for once, getting "paid."

**Chapters:** 2 of 24  
 **Rating:** This chapter, Parental Guidance Suggested for Children Under 13. Overall, rated Adult for horror, sexual content, and bad language.  
 **Dates:** This chapter was written June 2007  
 **Word Count:** 3,256  
 **Overall Summary:** Today is the longest day in Dean Winchester's life. Over the next 24 hours, he'll have to win a prank war, fight wise-cracking demons, rescue his siblings from a succubus, figure out why the patrons at a strip club are spontaneously combusting, save his brother from a deal he made with a blood-thirsty Asian creature eleven years ago, and all without getting sacrificed. And on his birthday! Do big brothers _ever_ get a day off?  
 **This Hour:** Sam remembers what happened eleven years and one day ago to cause him to make the deal that's come back to haunt him today. He and Dean discuss what Dean remembers, which is limited, and then Dean sets off another prank war. The hour ends with the Winchesters finally, for once, getting "paid."  
 **Timeline:** Alternate Universe after the _Supernatural_ episode "Crossroad Blues." (There's also a Winsister, but many of the events of the series have still happened.)  
 **Warning:** Winsister AU! Contains spoilers for several episodes of _Supernatural_ , especially the second season. I do not plan for there to be any Wincest in this story; I want to present a more realistic brother/brother/sister relationship this time. One chapter will have Wincest (Sam/Winsister) overtones, though, due to a succubus, but there will be no actual sex. The actual sexual content happens between Winsister/OFC, Sam/OFC, Dean/OFC, and Dean/OMC in future chapters.  
 **Author's Notes:** I got Kripked again. It happened last year with the season finale, and it's happened again with this story. STDSTN was planned out and begun well in advance of "All Hell Breaks Loose Part 2," but it shares some similarities with it anyway (the whole "one brother saves the other from a deal they made in the past to save the other's life" storyline). Oh well. I'm still writing it. I'll just say that Megumi is most definitely not a Crossroads Demon and leave it at that.  
Thanks to Rekka for help with the Japanese. You rock, Rek!  
I am a huge Japan geek and love staff weapons/polearms. You'll see that love reflected here.  
I just made up the empathy demon.  
Recently I asked if anyone wanted me to name a character after them for fun. One person to respond was my friend Moosie, whose real name is Heidi. Because she's fun to mess with, expect there to be as many Heidis in this story as I can cram into it. *evil grin*

  
 _1:04:36... 1:04:37... 1:04:38... 1:04:39AM..._

 _There is yelling coming from the top of the stairs. Dean is screaming something and Midori responds in an angry tone. The commotion draws Sam's attention from his practice._

 _Midori's voice is authoritative; Sam cannot make out what he is saying. But Dean is screaming loud enough for anyone to hear._

 _"Stop protecting that thing! I'm warning you, get out of the way!"_

 _Midori is saying something else as Sam makes his way to the living room to see what's going on. Dad calls from another room, "What's all the fighting about in there?"_

 _"I figured it out, Midori!" Dean yells._

 _Midori says something in that authoritative, cold tone._

 _Dean growls back, "No, **you'll** regret it! Get out of my - "_

 _Sam gets to the bottom of the stairs just in time to hear the scuffle. He looks up and gasps. "Dean!"_

 _Dean is making choked noises of pain. His hands close around the blade, but Midori still slides it in deeper, and Dean lets out a wail through gritted teeth, his eyes squeezed shut. Only the tips of his toes are on the sixth step now. He dangles there._

 _"Deeeean!" Sam hears himself scream._

 _Blood drips on the stairs below John Winchester's eldest child. There is a wet sucking sound, and Dean tumbles limply down the stairs, landing facedown at Sam's feet._

 _Now, the room fills with screams._

 _Sam kneels beside Dean and turns him over into his lap. "Dean... Dean?" He shakes him. The blood forms a pattern like an orchid blooming in the fabric of Dean's white shirt. Flecks of blood on full lips. There is no response._

 _"What... oh Christ... what the hell have you done?!" Dad screams from somewhere to Sam's right._

 _A girl starts to cry. It's Tenshi. "Midori, what happened?!"_

 _Midori says nothing. Just stands at the top of the stairs with the little one at his side._

 _Dad is breathing so loudly that his breath comes out in angry howls. "You son of a bitch... you killed my son... you killed my son!" Sam recognizes the next sound very well; it is the_ ch-chick _of a shotgun being cocked. "I don't care if you are a kid, I'll fucking **kill** you!"_

 _Sam cannot take his eyes off Dean's face, which is almost peaceful. He sees feet moving to one side. First, Dad's brown hiking boots charge toward the stairs. Smaller, feminine feet clad in sandals step in front of him and brace as Tenshi pushes against Dad. "No, NO, Mr. Winchester, don't, please, no! You can't kill my cousin! Please, no, put the gun down!"_

 _"Stay out of this, Tenshi!"_

 _"Mr. Winchester, pleeeeeease!" she wails._

 _"Let go of my gun!"_

 _Sam is unaware of the fact that his sister has even entered the room. He now sees her familiar plaid sneakers coming slowly toward him, so he looks up. Brook's face is a mask of shock and potential hysteria as she gazes down on the lifeless shape in his lap. "Sam, what's going on? Is he... Dean's hurt..." She bonelessly goes down on her knees, looking at Dean. "He's breathing, isn't he?" Brook asks in a shaky voice._

 _Tenshi continues to beg for her cousin's life. "Oba-san, tell Mr. Winchester to put the gun down! You can convince him. He wants to shoot Midori! Tell him he can't!"_

 _"Look what he did to my son!" Dad yells._

 _Sam is unable to see anymore because his eyes blur with tears. They form prisms through which he sees his sister reach out to shake Dean's shoulder. "Dean... Dean?" she says with growing panic._

 _"Winchesutaa-san, remember that you are a guest in this house," the grandmother reminds him calmly. Sam always knew there was something deeply disturbing about that woman; this just confirms it._

 _Dad yells again, "Do you see what he did to my son?!"_

 _The tears roll down Sam's face and he can now see Dad take aim._

 _Tenshi screams. Her arms go up and freeze in mid-air as a voice from halfway down the stairs commands, "Ugokuna!"_

 _Sam shudders at the inhuman sound of the voice. He wipes his eyes on the back of his hand, clearing them again, and realizes that everyone is frozen in place like statues. Everyone except him, the grandmother, Midori, and the child on the stairs._

 _Megumi. She's never spoken before. "Oyasumi!"_

 _The frozen people close their eyes and simply fall to the floor, unconscious._

 _Sam looks around him, sobbing in shock and confusion. "What... what... what did... you do?" he stammers._

 _Megumi walks slowly down the stairs, stepping callously into the puddle of blood that had run from Dean's body. The boy, Midori, stays at the top and looks down upon the scene. Sam can hardly take his eyes off those black patent shoes standing in the middle of the crimson puddle. That is, until she speaks again._

 _"Sam-kun," Megumi begins, "do you want to save your brother?"_

 _"Yes!" he immediately cries. "Is it possible? Tell me how!"_

 _The child smiles without opening her mouth. The look she gives Sam is predatory. "I believe we can make a deal."_

  
        "Sam? Sammy?"

        Dean's voice startled Sam out of his thoughts. He blinked and looked at his watch. _1:22AM_. Funny how memories running through a person's head could consume their time so completely. "Uh... hey."

        "Are you okay? You seem distracted."

        "Just thinking about stuff."

        Dividing his attention between watching the road and Sam, Dean asked, "What kinda stuff?"

        Sam tried to make it seem like no big deal, giving a shrug. "Just stuff in general."

        "You seemed kinda freaked out," Dean pressed. "The look on your face was pained."

        Brooding to himself, Sam didn't say anything for several seconds. He picked absently at a loose string on his jeans. "I was just thinking about the time we stayed with the Nakamuras. Remember that?"

        Dean started to smile, then looked confused, but ultimately settled on an uneasy grin. "Ohhh yeah, I remember. Tenshi's family. That was quite a while ago; why are you thinking about them?"

        "I was just wondering what _you_ remember about the two weeks we stayed there."

        "Hm." Dean obviously searched his memory, as he was quiet for a short time, staring out the windshield into the dark. "Dad took us there to train. Tenshi's father is a hunter and martial arts expert, and Dad thought that would be good for us. Remember, we each had to pick a weapon and try to master it?"

        Sam tapped his first two fingers against his bottom lip, almost lost in thought. "Yeah. I picked sais. Brook picked the naginata." He had to smile a little at that memory; Brook had, at first, chosen a weapon Nakamura-sensei thought would be too hard for her to master because she was a girl, which had made her feel insulted. She wanted to master whatever her brothers could master. Tenshi had stepped in to try to smooth things over by showing Brook how "cool" the female martial art of naginata-jyutu and its weapon could be. In the end, Brook was happy.

        Dad had threatened to tan both the boys' hides if they teased Brook about it being "just a girl's" martial art because it would probably upset her, and after all they had gone through to make her happy, Dad didn't want to do it all over again. There was nothing easy about Brook's training, but John knew how boys could be with their sisters.

        Dean grinned too. "Yeah. And I picked the zanbato."

         _The blade, dripping with blood, juts out from between Dean's shoulderblades._ Sam shuddered all over. "Uh huh. The zanbato."

        "Damn, that thing was heavy. I thought I was such a badass." Dean suddenly fell silent, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Did I ever master it? I can't remember."

        Swallowing hard, Sam replied, "No." He shook his head a little. "No."

        "Yeah, well, it was a long time ago. Midori and I trained pretty hard. It's a shame I didn't pass my test. I think we had to leave early because Dad got a lead on the demon, or something."

        Sam nodded. "Or something."

        "They had their grandmother living with them, too. She was pretty creepy," Dean laughed. "And some kid... I think she was Midori's little sister. Masami...?"

        "Megumi," Sam corrected in a choked voice. He cleared his throat to cover for his fear of what the day held.

        "Yeah." Growing quiet briefly, Dean pretty much forgot the child as soon as he'd mentioned her, thinking instead of Tenshi. Tenshi was three years younger than Dean, and one year older than Sam. She and Dean still saw each other whenever they had an itch that needed scratching. "I last saw Tenshi about two months ago. That is one sweet piece of - "

        "Dean..." Sam gave him that look that said he was about to say something piggish.

        "Have I ever shown you the picture I took of her in a bikini?"

        "Only ninety-nine times."

        "Wanna make it a hundred?" Dean snickered.

        He accidentally drove over a large rock, shaking the car. Brook snorted in her sleep and mumbled, "The hamburger's mine," from the back seat.

        Dean and Sam looked at each other and chuckled. "Talking in her sleep. Watch, watch." Dean chuckled again and spoke loud enough for Brook to hear him. "The hamburger, Brook?"

        "It's my hamburger," she repeated, sounded disoriented. "I got it."

        "Oh? Well, if it's yours, why don't you show it some love and give it a great big hug?"

        Sam snickered quietly, peeking over the seat to see if his sister would do it.

        Brook clumsily hugged the air. She made an unintelligible "mmuh" sound when she did.

        "Oh, God, Brook, you squeezed it so hard that ketchup squirted out all over your dress," Dean said, his voice shaking with repressed laughter.

        Her face scrunching, Brook groaned, "Ohhh."

        The two boys laughed to themselves. "Watch this." Dean let out a mock scream and tapped the brake hard.

        With a surprised "woooop" sound, Brook slid forward and connected less than gently with the back of the front seat. _Boosh!_ She then flopped helplessly down to the floorboard with a loud bump.

        Sam giggled heartily into the back of his hand. Dean feigned innocence, saying, "Oops."

        A second later, Brook's annoyed face popped up over the top of the seat. She grabbed the back of Dean's head by his hair. "Are you suicidal?"

        "Hey, watch the hair!" He batted at her hand.

        "You're asking for it, onion head. It's on," Brook declared.

        Sam knew instantly what she meant. "Oh no, no no no! Not another stupid prank war!"

        "You want it, you got it," Dean replied.

        "No!" Sam gestured wildly like a referee calling time-out. "You guys are not doing this."

        "You don't have to participate if you don't wanna, Sammy," Dean said with a shrug.

        "Yeah, right. I always get pulled in against my will."

        "So just give in now and make it easier on yourself." Brook started sucking on the end of her finger.

        Looking at her out of the corner of his eye, Dean said, "You give me a wet willy and I won't buy you anything at Taco Bell."

        "Taco Bell? Yay..." She started to climb into the front seat between them.

  
 _1:49:22... 1:49:23... 1:49:24... 1:49:25AM..._

        "The drive-through should be open for at least twelve more minutes..."

        "I've got ten."

        "Your watch is fast, Sixxer."

        "Oh, and they just _love_ it when people pull into the drive-through right before closing."

        "Put a sock in it, Sammy. I'm hungry."

        Dean drove the Impala up to the speaker. A voice came through it that said, "I'm sorry, but our drive-through equipment isn't working properly. Please come into the dining room to order."

        Looking confused, Dean mumbled, "Then how did you just... okay!" He parked nearby. "What do you guys want?"

        Dean memorized all the Supreme Tacos and Burrito Supremes and stepped out of the car. "Okay, three Tacoed Supremes, a Surrito Bumpreito, and a couple of Diet Cokes..."

        Brook gave him a dubious look. "Dean? Don't fuck with our food."

        He returned an impish grin. "Now would I do that?"

        As soon as Dean got inside Taco Bell, Brook took out her cell phone.

        "Who are you calling at this hour?" Sam asked.

        "Dean." She dialed and waited for him to answer. They watched him through the large glass windows of the restaurant.

        "Hello?" said Dean.

        "Is Rick there?" she questioned in a funny voice, trying to disguise her own.

        "No, you got the wrong number."

        "Oh, sorry. Just tell him Heidi called when you see him."

        "I don't know anybody named Rick," Dean replied in a slightly annoyed tone.

        Brook hung up with a grin.

        "What are you doing?" asked Sam.

        She snickered. "See, we're going to call Dean all day asking for Rick. Then, at the end of the day, you call back telling him you're Rick and you want all your messages."

        Shaking his head, Sam chuckled as he said, "I'm not getting involved in this."

        "Oh come on, you know it'll drive Dean crazy." Brook grabbed one of his ears, pulling him closer. "And you know we're going to drag you in anyway."

        Swatting off her hand, Sam paused as he gave it some thought. "What about Caller ID?"

        "I blocked it."

        "Star 69?"

        "You can block that too," she sing-songed, rolling her eyes. "You think I'm going to prank call someone without knowing how to do it right?"

        "Hm." Sam paused again, looking up at the car's roof. "I'll consider helping you if you promise to go easy on me."

        "It's a deal, bruthah." They linked their pinkies and shook on it.

        "Hey, you know what, I just realized something." Tapping his watch, Sam continued, "After midnight. It's January 24th."

        Brook grinned. "Dean's 28th birthday. Ooh, let's pretend we forgot, then right before midnight tomorrow night, spring a surprise party on 'im."

        "That's really cruel." He watched Dean through the windows, giving the teenager at the counter their order. "Let's do it," Sam finished with a devilish smile.

        As they both snickered, looking at Dean in the fast food restaurant, something small and black zipped past their older brother, slamming into the condiment island. It grabbed handfuls of ketchup packets and squeezed them. Ketchup squirted up into the air like a fountain.

        The employees behind the counter, and Dean, began to laugh like they'd never seen something so funny.

        Sam and Brook both jumped. "What the hell is that thing?!"

        "I don't know. Some kind of demon," Brook replied, and leaned over the seat to get the duffel bag they kept in the floorboard of the backseat, half stuffed under the front seat, for emergencies. Both their voices became hurried and frantic.

        Sam watched the creature for a moment, trying to figure out what it was so they'd know what kind of weapons to take. "It's got a face like a Comedy mask."

        "Like those drama masks? Tragedy and Comedy?" Brook labored to drag the bag over the seat as quickly as she could.

        "Yeah." Sam watched as the monster's face changed into the Tragedy mask. It turned to Dean and the Taco Bell employees, and they all grew sad. Some began to cry. "A small black creature, the size of an adult raccoon, with an expressive face that makes you feel whatever emotion it wants by just showing it to you. What did Dad say that was?"

        Brook brought the bag into her lap, and she and Sam started digging through it. "Uhhh... covered in fur... feeds off emotion and the center of human feeling, the heart. Very fast, reminded Dad of the Gremlins..."

        "Real gremlins?"

        "No, the ones from the movies."

        "Empathy demon!" Sam suddenly yelled, and grabbed a curved sickle-like knife. Brook took one of the handguns. They piled out of the car.

        "How do we kill it?!" she called as they headed toward the restaurant, where Dean was currently trying to aim his own handgun at the demon while it hopped from table to table. He was also hindered by the fact that he couldn't stop crying.

        "Either cut off its head or deprive it of emotions."

        Brook nodded. "You can kill practically anything by cutting off its head."

        He gestured toward her gun. "That'll hurt it, but won't kill it. Drive it toward me," Sam instructed, holding up the knife.

        Several minutes later, the Taco Bell was a shambles, with overturned tables and thrown food everywhere. The empathy demon lay in the middle of the counter with its tongue sticking out, dead. One of the employees was shaking Dean's sleeve to try to get his attention.

        "You killed it, you killed the monster! That thing has been terrorizing us for months. How can we ever repay you?" she asked.

        Taco Bell was officially closed, and the Winchesters were on the road to Hollywood again. Dean munched on a Crunch Wrap Supreme. His lap was full of them.

        Sam and Brook happily chewed on their own favorite Taco Bell goodies. There were more where those came from piled around them.

        With a mischievous grin, Dean said, "I love it when we get paid," and drove on.

 _1:59:57... 1:59:58... 1:59:59... 2:00:00AM..._

  
(The actual fight with the empathy demon will be fully detailed in the next hour through flashbacks.)

Japanese:  
 _Oba-san = Grandmother  
Ugokuna! = Don't move!  
Oyasumi! = A way of saying 'Goodnight.' Sort of like telling someone to take a rest, take a nap. XD  
-kun = A suffix used when addressing a boy._


	3. Hour 3: 2:00AM-3:00AM

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam thinks about what happened with the empathy demon, and the disturbing things it said to him. Afterwards, we get a glimpse into what the Winchesters do to pass the time while on a roadtrip. Sam and Brook may never let Dean choose the cases again when they finally arrive at the job in Hollywood.

**Chapters:** 3 of 24  
 **Rating:** This chapter, Parental Supervision Suggested for Children Under 13. Overall, rated Adult for horror, sexual content, and bad language.  
 **Dates:** This chapter was written June-July 2007  
 **Word Count:** 5,302  
 **Overall Summary:** Today is the longest day in Dean Winchester's life. Over the next 24 hours, he'll have to win a prank war, fight wise-cracking demons, figure out why the patrons at a strip club are spontaneously combusting, save his brother from a deal he made with a blood-thirsty Asian creature eleven years ago, and all without getting sacrificed. And on his birthday! Do big brothers _ever_ get a day off?  
 **This Hour:** Sam thinks about what happened with the empathy demon, and the disturbing things it said to him. Afterwards, we get a glimpse into what the Winchesters do to pass the time while on a roadtrip. Sam and Brook may never let Dean choose the cases again when they finally arrive at the job in Hollywood.  
 **Author's Notes:** I just made up the empathy demon.  
For the record, Def Leppard is one of my favorite bands ever, and I like Motley Crue and Ratt. Doesn't mean the characters aren't going to call a hair band a hair band. ;)  
Incase you hadn't noticed, flashbacks are told in present tense, while the rest is told in past tense. Little thing I did for atmosphere.  
This fic is all things to all people. So far, it's angst-ridden crack!fic. Let's see how many other genre I can cover before it's over.  
The part where they sing Metallica's "Creeping Death" in the car and the way they sing it is based on real events, heh. :D  
Heidi is named after my friend Moosie. Because she _asked_ for it. ::eg::

  
 _2:06:12... 2:06:13... 2:06:14... 2:06:15AM..._

        Brook found herself almost full of soft tacos when she voiced an unpleasant thought. "Why was the empathy demon hanging around that Taco Bell so much?"

        Shrugging, Dean guessed, "The employees gave off lots of tasty emotions?"

        "Maybe." Brook looked at her half-finished taco suspiciously. "But... those demons also eat _hearts_."

        Upon considering what she'd said, Sam winced and held his burrito away from his mouth. "Damnit, Brook, why'd you have to say that?! Ugh."

        Dean snickered. He furrowed his brow at his own food, shrugged, and went on eating. "Tastes like chicken to me."

        Sam made a disgusted sound. "And I'm still hungry."

        "Oh, come on, Sammy. I'm supposed to be the girl here," Brook teased.

        "Yeah. It's no big deal." Taking a big bite, Dean joked, "You can really taste the ventricle," and kissed his fingertips with a flourish in compliment to the chef. "Mwa!"

        "You two miscreants are incorrigible." Sam sniffed the burrito and took a small, tentative bite.

        Brook adopted a deep, stupid-sounding voice. "Duuuh, Dean, he's using the big words again to make us feel like maroons. Do yous know what he said?"

        Dean played along. "I tink he said we was miscreated and inconstitutional," he said in the same dumb tone. They both laughed slowly and moronically.

        In response, Sam laughed the same way and replied sarcastically, "Sam's smart. He doesn't have to get naked to count to twenty-one like Dean."

        Dean, suddenly growing serious, glanced over at his brother. "What I want to know is why that demon said all that stuff about your blood, Sammy. How your blood, heart, and soul belonged to someone else. What does that mean?" He had a hunch that Sam knew, that he was hiding something.

        Sam pretended he didn't know anything about it. He put on an innocent expression, something he was very good at, and shrugged. "I have no idea. Just making up a lie to try and shake me, I guess."

        Dean fell silent, but he didn't buy it.

        Brook said just about what he was thinking. "Pretty elaborate lie."

        In answer, Sam just shrugged once more.

        Everyone got quiet and continued eating for a while. After a short time, Brook moaned and announced, "God, I am _so full_." She handed her taco over to Dean, knowing he would finish it. They already shared close quarters; what was a little spit between siblings?

        For his own part, Sam had grown quiet because he was remembering what had happened with the empathy demon. The monster had said something he wished he could make it take back, not only because he didn't want his brother and sister to know what was going on, but because he still hadn't accepted it himself. The whole thing had been so surreal - Dean dying at the foot of the stairs, everyone screaming, a room full of carefully chosen unconscious people, and Megumi coming to him and standing in Dean's blood while offering him an impossible deal. Not a Crossroads Demon, no, something else entirely. A creature Sam had never heard of until that moment.

        To tell Dean and Brook about the creature stalking him would be to admit it was all really happening. Today, his time was up.

        But maybe they could help him. Maybe they could find a way out of this, and they would need time to do it.

        And maybe Dean and Brook would get killed in the process.

        Sam couldn't put his family in that kind of danger.

        At his feet, in the floorboard, they kept a small cooler full of ice for perishable food they wanted to take on the road. It had a few beers left in it. Sam now took one out and began to drink to take the edge off his anxiety. Instead of confessing to his siblings what was bothering him, he thought about what had happened in the restaurant, and he drank...

  
         _Weapons in hand, Sam and Brook burst into the Taco Bell to find the empathy demon standing on a table, beating himself in the head with a napkin dispenser. The employees behind the counter laugh at his antics, but mostly because he currently wears the expression of the Comedy mask. Dean takes a shot at him. The demon jumps out of the way at the last second, and the bullet plows into the booth behind him. Cushion stuffing flies out in a violent puff._

 _The employees jump and let out a unanimous screech of surprise._

 _"The drive-through speaker is broken!" the demon cries when he lands on the top of another booth, his feet deep in a potted plant. His face droops into the guise of the Tragedy mask as he looks right at Dean. "You might not get your food. Doesn't that make you sad?"_

 _Dean's tears begin anew; he cannot aim through his blurred vision. "Guys! Do you know what it is?" he sobs to Sam and Brook._

 _"Empathy demon!" Brook calls. "It can't be killed with bullets!"_

 _"You can only kill it by cutting off its head or depriving it of emotions to feed off of." Sam tries to be stealthy as he moves quickly around the back of the demon to the other side of the restaurant._

 _"He calls himself Maynard," one of the employees informs them._

 _Maynard doesn't like what he hears. He turns on Brook, who levels her handgun at his head, remembering what Sam said about driving the demon toward him. The creature still wears the expression of Tragedy. "Look what a mess your hair is!"_

 _Like Dean's exaggerated reaction to the thought that he might not get any Crunch Wraps, Brook's face crumples and she begins to cry too. "But we had to rush in here to kill you! I can't help it if my hair looks bad."_

 _Dean notices Sam trying to sneak up on the demon with the curved knife. He attempts to distract Maynard by talking, like his sister. "Don't look the demon straight in the eye, Brook. Whatever face you see, that will be your reaction."_

 _She sobs, "No shit, Sherlock." A brief glance over the demon's shoulder and she knows Sam has to get him; he is so close, and Maynard doesn't seem to know he's there._

 _"Just wanted to make sure you could see anything through all that messy-ass hair in your face," Dean teases with a smirk. "The demon's right; backseat bedhair galore!"_

 _Brook flips him off for the second time that night. "Are you sure **you** can see through those long-ass Tammi Faye eyelashes of yours?"_

 _Dean just laughs in response._

 _Maynard looks from one sibling to the other. He licks his lips. "These manufactured emotions are nice, but I want some real feelings. They're so much more delicious." His eyes shift just seconds before Sam brings the knife down in an arc, trying to cut off the creature's head. Maynard ducks, and the knife swishes by an inch over his head. Instantly the demon hops up on Sam's shoulder and runs his claws rapidly through Sam's hair, messing it up more than usual. Then he bounds like lightning off the top of Sam's head and hops away from table to table. Sam swipes at him with the knife, but he misses the fast creature a second time._

 _Maynard turns his Comedy face to the employees in mid-hop. They burst into laughter at the comical look of aggravation on Sam's face._

 _A couple of the tables topple over as the demon uses them to move to the other side of the restaurant and up to the front counter. He basks in the emotive vibes coming off the employees as they chuckle. "Mmmmm..." Maynard coos._

 _"Nice try, Sammy," Dean says, starting to snicker himself. "But we've gotta catch this evil Speedy Gonzales!"_

 _"Evil Speedy Gonzales!" Brook guffaws. The Taco Bell employees laugh like it's the funniest joke they've ever heard. "That's a good one, Dean."_

 _The empathy demon's eyelids flutter with pleasure. "Good, good emotions..."_

 _Sam realizes that the thing might be too fast for them - they could try having Dean and Brook shoot the demon enough to incapacitate it so Sam could move in and kill it, but that would risk the lives of the restaurant employees, as they could be hit by a stray bullet. They would have to try a different approach. "Everyone, listen to me! We can kill it by depriving it of emotions! Somehow, we've all got to clear our minds - "_

 _Maynard squints quizzically at Sam as he speaks, and eventually interrupts him. "You must have a strong, delicious heart with such an athletic build, but I can't eat it. It's been claimed by another. Someone I can tell I don't want to piss off."_

 _Although he knows better, Sam still allows the demon's words to get under his skin. "What are you talking about?"_

 _The creature laughs. "I'm just a smalltime demonic being. I'd never survive against the thing that put that mark on your body. Not a claiming mark like that. You're someone else's property, blood, body, and soul."_

 _Dean and Brook look at Sam with perplexed expressions; **what** is the demon talking about? Dean is especially interested in Sam's reaction, the horrified look on his face._

 _For his own part, Sam tries not to react to Maynard's words, but he can't hold it in. The creature can **see** it, he can see the invisible mark of ownership Megumi put on him. It has to be her 'signature' that Maynard sees. Sam made a promise to Megumi in return for Dean's resurrection, and his family couldn't see the mark, but this demon could._

 _The empathy demon smiles ecstatically and closes his eyes, making satisfied noises. "Mmm, real emotions... most delicious... actual fear, anxiety, and panic. Whatever's claimed you will have the pleasure of drinking the blood from your heart, but at least I get some of your delectable feelings before you die..."_

 _Dean removes the sly smile from the demon's face by aiming his gun at Maynard's head and pulling the trigger. The employees scream and jump back at the loud sound. The empathy demon lets out a screech of its own before leaping up on the soda dispenser behind the counter. He rubs at the oozing wound. "That hurt!"_

 _Seething, Dean replies, "Don't talk about my brother like that, or you'll get worse next time."_

 _"You're trying to kill me," the demon reminds him. "What could be worse than that?"_

 _"Try me," says Dean._

 _"And then me," adds Brook, releasing the safety on her gun._

 _Dean informs her, "There won't be any of him left when I get done, sis."_

 _Maynard looks at each of them and grins joyfully. "Anger... so tasty."_

 _Sam tries to get everyone's attention again. "We have to clear our minds! It can't go without emotions for even a few minutes. Empathy demons must feed constantly. Try not to think about anything upsetting or dramatic - "_

 _"How do you expect us not to think about anything upsetting when we've got this monster roaming around behind the counter?!" one of the employees squeaks._

 _Dean cuts in, "All of you, get back into a storeroom or something. Get away from the counter. We may have to shoot it."_

 _The employees do as they are told, moving away from the mayhem._

 _Maynard looks as if he is panicking. He glances from one person to another. "That demon is going to take its time drinking your blood. It will draw out the pain as you die slowly."_

 _With the employees out of harm's way, Dean and Brook both open fire. The demon shoots up into the air with a screech of pain. Maynard lands with a loud plop on the counter, a sloppy landing where his feet slip out from under him because he's been hit with at least three bullets. Breathing hard, he gets up to face them. The soda machine behind him sprays melted ice water out of a bullet hole._

 _Smirking dangerously, Dean puts a period on their actions. "Shut the fuck up," he commands._

 _"I've heard enough. Let's finish this thing off," Sam says. He looks at his brother, then his sister. "Clear your minds. Try not to feel anything. We're going to recite the Gettysburg Address."_

 _"Gettysburg Address?" Dean repeats._

 _"Old trick of mine from college. Whenever I got freaked about exams, I'd just recite the Gettysburg Address to myself. By the time I was done, I'd calmed down. Helped me focus."_

 _Brook begins, "But I - "_

 _Holding up a silencing hand, Sam replies, "Repeat after me. 'Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation...'"_

 _"'Four score and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation...'" Dean and Brook say together._

 _"'...conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.'"_

 _"'...conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.'"_

 _"We're going a little faster now. Repeat it just a beat behind me. Don't concentrate on anything but reciting the speech. Don't even think of what the words mean," Sam instructs. "'Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation, so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battlefield of that war...'"_

 _Dean and Brook do as Sam tells them, trusting his instincts completely. Dean feels like he's back in school, reciting some stupid thing his teacher made him memorize, and it bores him, just like it did back then. Such things are not important when you could be out hunting with your dad, saving people's lives. Even getting a little tail was more important than some old speech. Brook had always kind of liked memorizing stuff for school, but Sammy told her not to think about what the words mean, so she just repeats what he says without emotion. It's been too many years since Mrs. Rottlinger made the whole class memorize this speech; Brook can't remember it without Sam's prompting._

 _Maynard starts to pant. He can't read minds like some of the other demons, so what is he supposed to use to shake these jerks up and make them feel something? They're feeling nothing but boredom and calm, like a flat line moving evenly across the horizon. No bumps, no curves, absolutely nothing from which to feed._

 _"'We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.'"_

 _A whiny scream builds in the demon's throat. Sam is right - he cannot go without feeding for even a short time. He finally yells, "The clock is ticking down on your last day, Sam! You think I can't see how much longer you've got? The creature that put its mark on you is claiming its tribute **today**! Feel!"_

 _"'But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate - we can not consecrate - we can not hallow - this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world...' oh shit, what comes next...?"_

 _Dean and Brook look at each other. "Somehow, I don't think that last part was something Lincoln wrote," Dean jokes._

 _Brook can't help it, and giggles._

 _"Ahhh, yes!" Maynard cries, reveling in the tiny amount of emotion. He practically rolls on the counter in delight._

 _Not wanting the demon to recover at all, Sam quickly regains his memory. "...'The world will little note'!" he suddenly cries. "'The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.'"_

 _Desperate, Maynard searches for the employees hiding in the back, trying to feel their emotions. For his trouble he gets back only the same dead air, a complete lack of any useful feelings. They must be using a similar technique to clear their minds, like Sam suggested. The demon screams with his fists balled at his sides._

 _"'It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us - that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion...'"_

 _Maynard frantically starts making faces that mimic various emotions at the Winchesters, trying to catch their attention, but not a one looks him in the eye. After ten or so seconds of this, he weakly collapses to a sitting position, then leans over on the counter, panting. "Feel..."_

 _"'...that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain - that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom...'"_

 _"Feeeeel..."_

 _"'...and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.'"_

 _Maynard finally falls over, his tongue lolling out, and doesn't move. He utters a final breath that sounds like, "Uhhhh..."_

 _The Winchesters watch him for any movement. Dean comments, "His death was like a freakin' cartoon. 'Say good-bye to Uncle Louie for me. Uhhhhh...'" He holds his chest and sticks out his tongue._

 _"'Uncle Wouie?'" adds Sam jokingly, imitating the cartoon Dean is talking about._

 _Dean claps him on the back. "Good idea, Sammy. Worked like a charm."_

 _"You can come out! It's safe!" Brook calls to the hiding employees._

 _As they walk up to the front, they see the dead demon. "Did you kill it?" one employee asks._

 _Taking the knife from Sam, Dean nods and moves closer to the counter._

 _A female employee grabs his sleeve and shakes it to get his attention. "You killed it, you killed the monster! That thing has been terrorizing us for months. How can we ever repay you?" she asks._

 _With his trademark charming smirk, Dean leans in and requests, "All the food you got in the house. To go," and cuts off the demon's head with a SWISSSSH, FUCHUNK!_

  
 _2:36:36... 2:36:37... 2:36:38... 2:36:39AM..._

        Sam is startled out of his thoughts by the sound of Dean and Brook squabbling. Everytime she pushed a particular cassette tape into the stereo, Dean just ejected it again.

        "Stop it!" she nearly whined.

        Dean pushed the Eject button for the fourth time. "You know the rule, Sixxer." As Dean repeated it, Sam said it with him in a mocking tone, "Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole."

        "But you never let me drive," Brook reminded her older brother. "The only time I get to take the wheel is when you fall asleep and Sammy lets me."

        "And this is my problem becaaaause...?"

        "Dean, I am _sick_ of Metallica. I haven't heard any Crue in days. Don't be a butthole."

         _Tape goes in... Eject._

        "Dean!"

        Dean and Sam both sighed at the same time, but for slightly different reasons. "Why do you like Motley Crue so much anyway? They're a _hair_ band."

        "For the same reason you love Metallica and Led Zeppelin and all those other bands you listen to," Brook responded. She pawed through Dean's shoebox of cassettes.

        "You can't even put a hair band in the same category with Metallica and Zepp. You and your Nikki Sixx." He adopted a falsetto tone to imitate her. "'Oh, I just love Nikki Sixx; he's soooo cool; what a musical genius.' Guy must be 70 by now."

        "Is not," she said, then mumbled, "He's 48. Besides, all _your_ bands are _ancient_."

        Dean scoffed. "Pssht. Motley Crue. You _shame_ me."

        With an impish grin, Brook held up a tape. "This coming from a guy with a _Ratt_ cassette in his collection. Haaaair band..." She bobbled the tape in front of his face.

        "Ratt? How the fuck'd that get in there?" Snatching the cassette from her fingers, Dean tossed it carelessly into the back seat, his eyes shifting guiltily.

        She held up another. "Def Leppard?"

        " _Pyromania_ was a damn good album."

        "Still a hair band. Joe Elliott is the eternal mullet king."

        "Shut up, Sixxer." A sudden smile dominated Dean's face. "Why shouldn't I get to listen to the music I like best today? You know, _today_."

        Shooting Sam a mischievous look, Brook replied, "Today? Nothing special about today."

        "Nope," added Sam, and held back a naughty grin.

        Dean hid his reaction to that, although a small pout did cross his face for a brief moment. "Yeah, whatever."

        "Hey, I know what we could do," Sam said, grinning anyway. "Winchester Sing-a-long!"

        "Yay!" Brook bounced in the seat.

        Dean, rolling his eyes, grumbled, "Now I _know_ you've had a couple of those," and glanced at the fresh beer in Sam's hand.

        "Aw, Dean, you like to sing in the car." Brook leaned her head over on his shoulder. "Remember when we were kids and we'd be on some long drive, and we'd all sing with Dad?"

        "And one person would sing lead while the others were his backup singers?" added Sam gleefully.

        " _Her_ backup singers, too. You always enjoyed it, Dean," Brook finished. She knew Dean thought it was a pretty corny activity now, but that was just because he never wanted to be caught doing it. "And everyone knows you're the best singer of the family, next to Dad." Brook looked up at him coyly.

        Dean was smiling, sly and arrogant. "It's true," he allowed. "I can carry a tune."

        "And you're modest, too," Sam piped in, earning him a dismissive smack on the chest with the back of Brook's hand.

        "So, whaddaya say?"

        Dean pretended he didn't think it would be really fun. "Okay," he replied with several rapid nods. "I get first choice."

        "Woo-hoo!" Sam raised his fists in childlike triumph.

        "Yay!" repeated Brook.

        "Why are the worst singers always the most excited about the Sing-a-longs?" Dean lamented to himself, shaking his head.

        For that, he received the same smack Sam had, but on his arm. "So what are we singing?"

 _2:42AM..._

        "'So let it be written, so let it be done, I'm sent here by the chosen one...'" crooned Dean, driving down the highway at 70 miles per hour.

        Sam played air-guitar with his hands and his mouth. "Urrrnh, urrrnh, urrrnh..."

        "'So let it be written, so let it be done, to kill the first born pharaoh's son. I'm creeping death...'"

        "Metallica. I should have known," mumbled Brook. There wasn't much for her to do as a 'backup singer' on this one.

        Sam suddenly went into a different guitar riff. He eventually nudged Brook very hard.

        "Ow! Huh? Oh!" She sat up from her bored, slumped position. "'Die! Die! Die! Die!'"

        Sam began to chant with her. "'Die! Die! Die! Die!'"

        Dean came in with, "'DIE, die, by my hand! I creep across the land, killing firstborn man!'" He looked over at Sammy. Sam had always enjoyed singing in the car with the whole family more than any of them. Dean supposed that it was because it made him feel together with them; it was something a 'normal' family would do on a long roadtrip. Anything that brought such a delighted smile to Sammy's face was okay with Dean. He'd sing all the way to the job if it would make Sam continue to loosen up like this.

        That sentiment would probably seem strange to anyone else who heard them chanting, "Die! Die! Die!" but not to Dean.

 _2:45AM..._

        "I am not singing Schoolhouse Rock songs!" argued Dean.

        "No one's going to hear you, Dean," Sam said. "Just us."

        "You _like_ Schoolhouse Rock," Brook reminded him. "Besides, it's my turn to choose." She leaned over on Sam. "And Sammy wants to sing them too."

        Obviously giving it some thought, Dean finally said, "But it's so _silly_..."

 _2:47AM..._

        "'We were sufferin' until suffrage!'" sang Brook.

        "'Oh!'" added her brothers, backing her up. They sang in falsetto, like female backup singers, in imitation of the song.

        "'Not a woman here could vote no matter what age.'"

        "'No!'"

        "'But the nineteenth amendment struck down that restrictive rule!'"

        Dean and Sam crooned, "'Oh YEEEEEEEAH!'" with gusto.

 _2:52AM..._

        For all his protesting, Dean sang a mean version of "Verb: That's What's Happening," probably his favorite Schoolhouse Rock song ever.

        "'I can question, like: What is it?'"

        Sammy and Brook gleefully sang backup. "'Verb, you're so demanding!'"

        "'I can order, like: Go get it!'"

        "'Verb, you're so commanding...'" The 'backup singers' began swaying back and forth, pointing their fingers in time with the rhythm of the song.

        They were enjoying themselves so much that they hardly noticed they had entered Hollywood city limits. The Hollywood sign loomed over them, the late night sky forming an inky black backdrop.

        "'I get my thing in action!'" Dean sang, really getting into the ending.

        Sam and Brook got into it too. "'VERB! That's what's happening!'"

        "'To work...'"

        "'Verb!'"

        "'To play...'"

        "'Verb!'"

        "'To live...'"

        "'VERB!'"

        Everyone joined in on the last line. The car was filled with enthusiastic crooning, some of it whiny and cracking, some of it in tune. "'To LOOOOoooooOOOOoooooVE!!'"

        Sam and Brook bounced in their seats and beat on the roof of the car, giving the song a drumbeat ending. Then they both shared a hearty laugh. "I love that one," Sam chuckled.

        Dean was growling, "Hey, hey, HEY!" at them for beating on the car's roof. Then he sarcastically added, "Could you guys possibly bounce around the car some more? I'm not having _nearly_ enough trouble driving."

        After giving each other a look, his brother and sister bounced up and down in their seats even harder. Recalling an old joke from their childhood, they declared themselves, "Mexican jumping beans!" and giggled.

 _2:57AM..._

        Sammy's turn. He was singing "Interjections" when Dean pulled into the parking lot of the most unexpected place...

        "'So when you're happy...'" sang Sam.

        "'Hurray!'" cried his sister and brother.

        "'Or sad...'"

        "'Awwww!'"

        "'Or frightened...'"

        Brook held her mouth open on the sides with her fingers, making the kind of face a child might find scary. She looked at Dean, and he cried, "'Eeek!'" in mock fear.

        "'Or mad...'" Sam continued.

        "'Rats!'" replied his siblings.

        The tone of Brook's backup singing revealed she was perplexed when she saw the lights and the sign hanging over the place to which Dean was taking them. Sam did not look; he just went right on singing. "'...An interjection starts the sentence riiiight!'"

        While he sang the next stanza, Brook glared at the sign, then at Dean. "I thought we were doing a _case_ in Hollywood," she said accusingly.

        "We are," Dean said back.

        "'They're generally set apart from a sentence by an exclamation point, or by a comma when the feeling's not as strong.'"

        Brook opened her mouth to say more, but Dean cut her off by loudly backing Sam up on the last chorus of the song. "'Interjections show excitement or emotion, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah YEEEEEA!'"

        He stopped the car in front of what was obviously... a strip club. The sign out front declared it was The Club Luscious and that there were _Live Nude Girls!_ inside. A brunette with big hair, an intensely full face of make-up, and impossibly high heels on stood out front, wearing a silk robe that hugged all her curves. Dean pulled up right next to her.

        Sam finally took notice of where they were. He stared at the woman's ample chest and, after a moment of stunned silence, squeaked, "'Darn, that's the end.'"

        She leaned over to the open driver's side window. "Are you Dean?"

        "I am," he responded with a charming smile.

        The stripper looked over the others in the car. A girl who seemed a little miffed and a sort of doofy, big guy with his mouth hanging open like a dying fish. They seemed quite mystified to be here. "Are you the guys who are going to help us with our problem?"

        "Problem?" Sam said, his voice cracking.

        "The thing where customers spontaneously combust while being given lapdances," the stripper finished.

        Brook burst out laughing. When no one else joined her, she said, "Oh, you're serious."

        His mouth still hanging open, Sam looked at Dean in shock. "Are we?"

        "We are," Dean assured him, and the stripper.

        She seemed doubtful. "If you say so."

        Dean put a hand on her arm. "We're your guys. Trust me. We'll make it stop."

        "I sure hope so. My hair caught on fire the last time it happened."

        Sam and Brook looked downward.

        The stripper rolled her eyes. "On my _head_ ," she said, and held out a chunk of her hair.

        They looked at each other. "Oh."

        "Don't worry. We have a lot of experience rooting out the source of this kind of trouble." Dean glanced around for a parking space. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

        "Heidi," the stripper replied.

        Pausing, Dean looked confused for a moment before he asked, "You know a guy named Rick?"

 _2:59:57... 2:59:58... 2:59:59... 3:00:00AM..._

  
 **Seize the Day, Suffer the Night** (c) 2007 Demented Stuff  
 **Supernatural** is (c) 2005+ Kripke Enterprises, Wonderland,  & Warner Brothers/The CW Television.  
The Gettysburg Address was written by Abraham Lincoln. Duh.  
The 'Uncle Wouie' thing comes from a Bugs Bunny cartoon, (c) Warner Brothers.  
Metallica "Creeping Death" (c) ...Metallica (I had a hard time finding any official copyright info)  
Schoolhouse Rock (c) ABC Television


End file.
